I hit stop.
I watched it back. It was good. It was warm, it was honest, it was the kind of content that had built my platform from a stalling outdoor apparel page into something real—a community of women who were trying to figure out how to love the outdoors and love their kids and love their partners all at the same time without losing their minds.
The brand deals came to me now. I didn’t chase them. I hadn’t chased them in four years.
I set the phone on the tailgate of Spencer’s truck, screen-down.
He was crouched by the camp stove with the coffee pot on it. He looked up at me over his shoulder.
“Done?”
“Done.”
“Come here.”
I walked over to him. He stood up and pulled me in by the waist and kissed the top of my head. He smelled like campfire and the soap he’d used since before I met him.
“The girls are fine,” he said. “Mom sent a picture. Catalina’s already asleep. Madelyn’s working on it.”
“Show me.”
He pulled his phone out and showed me. Catalina was sprawled across the guest bed at his mom’s house, mouth open, one arm flung over her head. Madelyn was in her grandmother’s arms in the rocker, eyes half-closed, a fist curled around the collar of her shirt.
My chest went warm.
I handed his phone back.
“I want to climb,” I said.
“Climb what?”
I pointed. There was a boulder at the edge of the overlook—a big one, maybe twelve feet, sloped on one side, flat on top. I’d seen it every time we’d come up here. I’d never climbed it.
“Joy.”
“I want to go up.”
He looked at the boulder. He looked at me. He looked at my hiking boots and my shorts and the flannel I was wearing that was technically his.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll spot you.”
I climbed.
The rock was warm from the day’s sun, still holding heat even after dark. I found handholds. I found footholds. Spencer was below me with one hand on my calf and then my thigh and then I was up, pulling myself onto the flat top, and the whole valley opened up beneath me.
Spencer came up behind me. He’d always been a better climber. He was up in three moves, easily, and then he was standing on the flat top next to me with the sky wide open above us and the valley dark below and not another person for miles.
I turned to him. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
I didn’t have time to say anything else before Spencer’s mouth was on mine, slow and deep and sure. It was the kind of kiss that still made my knees weak after five years. But now, instead of the shy uncertainty I used to feel, I kissed him back with the confidence of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and trusted her husband to give it to her.
His hands slid down my sides and pulled my hips against him. I could already feel him hard through his shorts. The knowledge sent a warm rush through me—still so wanted, still so craved by the man I’d chosen.
Spencer broke the kiss and turned me in his arms so my back was against his chest, both of us facing out over the dark valley. One of his big hands splayed across my stomach while the other slipped down the front of my shorts. His fingers found me already wet, and he let out a low, appreciative sound against my ear.
“Always so ready for me,” he murmured, voice rough.
